Start of a New Adventure
by irmaida
Summary: "It seems her new adventure is beginning." —Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy. Mostly friendly but shippy if you squint very hard. Post-war, pre-epilogue. For Griffinesque.


Start of a New Adventure

"It seems her new adventure is beginning." —Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy. Mostly friendly but shippy if you squint very hard. Post-war, pre-epilogue.

\

It's strange, hits her a bit out of the blue, when one day, two months after the war, Luna wakes up and realizes that she's unhappy.

She doesn't feel like this often. It's something she learned from an early age, not to linger and mope but to move on, to find a new adventure, something beautiful and mysterious in the world. Because the world _is _beautiful and mysterious, and worth living in.

But here she is, unhappy. She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and tries to reason through it (she _is _a Ravenclaw, after all). This is normal. It's only been two months since the war ended. With everything she's seen and been through, everything her friends have seen and been through, it makes sense to feel this way. But that doesn't mean Luna _likes _it.

She's restless, she decides. When the war was raging, there was always something to do, something to worry about, some task to run, some way to help. And then in the immediate aftermath there was also always something to do, something to rebuild, some task to run, some way to help. But those experiences are over. It's time for a new adventure.

A tawny owl that she recognizes as Hermione's flutters through her window and drops a parcel in her lap. She sits up in bed, strokes the beautiful creature, and extracts the letter. She smiles as she opens it.

It seems her new adventure is beginning.

\

_Dear Luna,_

_How are you? I'm doing really well. I finally convinced Ron and Harry to go back to Hogwarts with me this upcoming school year to finish up our education. I'm sure they'll thank me later._

_Anyway, the reason I'm writing is because Ginny and I heard of this great program called Reaching In, headed by Professor Bowen. It takes place in this forest hidden from Muggles in the middle of England, so it's a bit far, but I think you'll love it. It's all about caring for magical creatures and finding new ones. I've attached a brochure with more information and the application. I think you'd really like it. _

_Your friend,_

_Hermione_

\

She gazes out the window as she waits for the train to leave the station. Next to her is her small suitcase, and a slightly crumpled copy of Hermione's letter and brochure sits in her worn-out jacket pocket. It's all she needs on this adventure. She catches a glimpse of orange outside and wonders if it's a keepke, but it quickly flutters away before she can focus and know for sure.

That's when she hears the scuffling outside, the yelling and grunting.

"Okay, fine, I'm _going_, hear that?" she hears a familiar masculine voice say.

"Good riddance, scum! Filth!" another voice jeers.

The blue curtain of her compartment is suddenly thrown open. Her eyes widen slightly when she sees none other than Draco Malfoy standing there with a Slytherin green backpack strapped onto his back.

"Lovegood," he says stiffly. He hasn't changed much since she last saw him during the war, although his hair is slicked back instead of shaggy and wild, and some of the madness is out of his eyes, and he stares at her with an expression that contains more shock than anything else.

She takes it as a good sign. "You can sit if you'd like."

\

Half an hour later, Luna's rereading an old edition of the _Quibbler_ when her Malfoy finally decides to speak up.

"So that rubbish magazine is still printing? I thought it shut down after the war."

She shrugs, letting the comment roll off her; she's encountered plenty like it before. She opens her mouth to tell her that her father is the editor but realizes that Malfoy probably already knew that and made the comment on purpose. Instead she lowers the magazine a bit so that she can see Malfoy's face, and her lips twist into a half-smile. "Daddy did consider shutting it down temporarily after the war, but I convinced him not to. The _Quibbler_'s been consistently printing since Daddy was a baby, and we're not going to let a war ruin that. He agreed. Daddy's a good man."

They make eye contact for a fraction of a second. A cryptic expression fleets across Malfoy's face for a fraction of a sentence (rather melancholy, Luna thinks) before a sour frown replaces it, and Malfoy looks away. "So what are you doing here then, away from your oh-so-good _Daddy_." He spits out the last word, mocking.

"I wanted a new adventure," she answers, letting the comment roll off her again. He's just lonely, Luna thinks. It's strange to think of Malfoy in such a way, but Luna's been lonely herself enough times to recognize someone who's feeling the same way. "And why are you on this adventure?"

Malfoy raises his eyebrows at her word choice. "Same reason as you, I suppose. An _adventure_." Again, there's that mocking tone, but it seems less bitter this time. Interesting. Luna nods, and when Malfoy doesn't say anything else, she goes back to her magazine. Best not to bother him. Lonely or not, she thinks he needs time to himself.

"Not very many Slytherins on this train, learned that the hard way in the compartment next door," Malfoy comments, causing Luna to look up. He's staring at his nails as if he's disinterested, not looking at her. "None at all, except me, actually. And I had to send in my application twice."

"Well," Luna says thoughtfully, "apparently Professor Bowen's a bit of a bigot."

Malfoy looks up, obviously surprised. "If I recall properly, Bowen was a Ravenclaw."

"So?" she asks. "A lot of people are bigots. You were, too."

Malfoy's familiar scowl is back, but there seems to be humor behind it now. He raises an eyebrow. "Were? You mean I'm not one anymore?"

"You tell me," Luna replies, looking into his eyes. Malfoy's silent for a while. The air feels charged; something's changed.

"You're strange, Lovegood," he says, cutting the tension.

She smiles as if it's a compliment; he supposes, to her, it really is. "Good," she says. "So, that's a truce?"

"Look, Lovegood, we're not _friends_ or anything," he quickly reminds her, because she may be a Pureblood and nice enough, but she's a Lovegood. He's known her for years, mocked her to her face and behind her back, fought her and kept her as a prisoner in his family basement during the war. (And she's wearing what appears to be radishes on her ears.)

"So?"

He sees no grudge in her eyes—a clean slate—something rare. Since the war's end, it seems like everyone has at least some degree of a grudge against him. "Okay then, truce."

\

The train screeches to a stop. They've arrived at their destination. They step out side-by-side. But he doesn't help her with her bags or anything. Because they're not friends or anything. Really.

She smiles. It's only just begun.

* * *

I don't know what I just wrote. Just be glad I wrote something. /loudsigh/

/hides/


End file.
